D
literature

Destabilization

Ylimegirl's avatar
By Ylimegirl   |   Watch
0 0 63 (1 Today)
Published: September 23, 2016
I was born today
Already fully-grown
I'm not my own person
I exist only for him

The puppet
Of other people's whims
I'm okay with this fate
I'm useless for anything else

I learn what I must
Nothing more, nothing less
I'm trained for my purpose
To kill my other self

The source of my being
The enemy of my father
She will be destroyed
By my own two hands

One day while outside
She crash-lands near our estate
My training takes over
And I offer her my hand

Handsome but kind
Well-groomed yet slightly messy
I'm exactly her type
Flirting with myself makes me retch internally

Her flush is obvious
And I help the heroine up
I take her to the mansion
Where me and my master live

I help her recuperate
She explains her troubles
A demon terrorizing her town
His base is nearby

She wonders if I've seen him
Tall frame, dark hair, Russian accent,
Has a pair of piercing eyes
And looks like he knows everything

The description sounds like my master
But I put it out of my head
The heroine's attacking him
He never provokes her

I offer her food
She politely declines
I ask if she wants to rest
She asks if she can go

I attack her
I pin her to the ground
I order her to stay
This criminal can't leave

Bound to a chair
She looks at me with disgust
I can't look her in the eye
Even though I'm doing what's right

My master returns
He comes in through the window
I offer him my hand
He gladly accepts

While I feel dizzy
For the next few minutes
I can clearly make out
What he tells myself

I realize in that moment
She was right all along
The only monsters in this room
Are my master and me

In my weakened haze
I attack my master
He collapses the floor
I escape with my source

Now in turn she helps me
Brings me back to health
Hides me in her house
I know this can't last

One night I'm gone
I escaped into the wind
For once, maybe
I can carve my own fate
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© 2016 - 2019 Ylimegirl
I keep forgetting about this character, a lot. Sorry dude
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I pull a cookbook from its shelf, right next to the ceramic bowls, flip through the batter-stained pages.   His orange and white hairs still cling to my sweatshirt, a touch of blood smeared across the collar.   At last, I find the recipe I was searching for. Peanut butter cookies.  My finger traces down the list of ingredients: two and one fourth cups all-purpose flour, one teaspoon baking soda, two eggs. A rustle comes from the next room over, and I pause—glancing up, past the breakfast bar.   My sister is lying on the den couch, her face to the backrest.   A blanket is s
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